nife deep into the naked back of the
surprised Cro-Magnard.

Nada's terrified cry was all that saved Tharn from instant death. For he
was rising from his stool and turning as the scream left her lips. As a
result, the knife point entered his back at an angle, ripping through
the muscles there to enter the lower tip of one lung.

Tharn, despite his agony, reached for the would-be assassin. But another
was there before him--Vulcar, the hawk-faced.

The one-time captain of Urim's guards had vaulted the table in a flying
leap and with a powerful sweep of his arm, knocked away the knife. Then
he caught the man about the neck and forced him into a kneeling
position.

"So, Pryak," cried the hawk-faced one, "you would add another killing to
your list! Long have I waited for this--now comes your reward for the
death of Urim!"

Pryak opened his lips to plead for mercy, but before the words could
come he was whirled up from the floor as though he were a figure of
straw. Then, as the others watched in awe, Vulcar brought the screaming
man down on the edge of the massive table.

There was a crunching sound from splintering bones, one last
nerve-tearing cry of agony and fear--and Pryak, the ambitious, was gone
to his reward.

As the guests stood staring down at the broken form, a thin trickle of
blood appeared at one corner of Tharn's mouth and coursed to his chin.
Dazedly he lifted a hand to wipe away the stain, then his knees gave
way, and before the paralyzed company could prevent, Tharn, the son of
Tharn, had pitched to the floor.

* * * * *

When complete consciousness first returned, he was aware of a great
mound of soft skins beneath him; and he opened tired eyes to a
sun-flooded room. For a little while he was content to remain so,
staring at the stone ceiling.

Later, he slowly turned his head and looked into the eyes of Nada. For a
few minutes mother and son did not speak; then she reached out to touch
his hand.

"You have come back to us, Tharn," she said softly.

Tharn pondered over her remark. When he spoke he was startled by the
feebleness of his voice.

"How long have I lain here?"

"Half a moon."

"Half a--!" He sought to sit up, but sank back as a stabbing pain shot
through his chest.

"No, no, Tharn!" cried Nada. "You still are not well. The wound in your
back is not completely healed, and the jungle fever left you only a
little while ago."

Tharn frowned. He w